


Perfect Heat

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Heat Sex, Knotting, M/M, Omega Verse, alpha!Phil, omega!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's heat comes on and Phil looks after him through it, making sure it's a perfect, angst-free heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Heat

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE!!! This fic starts with Phil initiating sex whilst Clint is asleep. Consent is not explicitly detailed within the fic but it's implied that as it's an established relationship and within the context of the (rife with consent-issues) Omegaverse, consent is implied. It's the start of Clint's heat and the sooner Phil initiates sex with him, the less painful the heat will be.
> 
> This fic was intended as a... different take on omegaverse heats, which often get portrayed as panicked, scary times for Omegas. I wanted this to be a nice, warm, loving heat during which Phil takes good care of Clint in the hopes of making it a 'perfect heat'. Then there is accidental (but welcome!) bonding :)
> 
> Fic betaed by Dunicha and subsequently fiddled about with by me.

Phil loves waking up wrapped around Clint Barton. That's a given; ever since they started this thing it's been one of the best things about his day. 

But waking up and knowing that Clint's heat's beginning? That's heaven. 

 

It's the kind of thing of trashy romance novels, the heartfelt _knowing_ that one's mate is in rut, the knowledge that they're in need, and before all this, Phil never really believed in any of it. But he wakes up and he really does know; even before he's taken a deep, fortifying sniff of the air, he knows Clint's heat has begun.

 

Clint's still sleeping, on his side turned away from Phil, and he doesn't seem any different from how he usually does when Phil's afforded the opportunity to watch him sleep, but something within Phil is attuned to something within Clint and he _knows_ , cock already hard and twitching, that Clint's ready and wanting even if he is asleep. 

 

It's all marked off on the calendar, Clint's heat-leave a little flexible after all the years he spent on crappy suppressants, but Phil's got everything ready, all he has to do is send a text to HR and his workload is pushed out to other people or put on hold. The fridge is stocked and dinner's already ordered, hours away from now, but ordered all the same. There's a stack of fresh towels and bottles of water and packets of chips (Clint's favourite, nothing but the best for Phil’s omega) in the nightstand, Clint's favourite tv shows in the DVR. Everything arranged and ready.

 

Clint complains about it, of course, cause he hates any kind of fuss that's made over him, but Phil persists and it never fails to pay off, making Clint as happy as he can whilst he'll allow Phil to take care of him. That's it as much as anything for Phil - when Clint's heat hits, he's all grasping hands and pleas, and Phil likes having the opportunity to care for his beautiful, perfect omega when he's allowed to with impunity.

 

Phil sends his text and then turns off his phone before sneaking out of the bed to take a piss and make breakfast. He wants nothing more than to snuggle up to Clint right now, but he knows from past experience that he'll be sad of it once his first knot's come and he literally can't piss for forty minutes. Chips are a standby, a welcome snack but not a breakfast, so he sets things to cooking and brewing (with JARVIS as watchful monitor) and uses the bathroom before sliding back into bed beside Clint. 

 

Clint's still dead to the world, mindlessly squeezing Phil's hand when he slips his arm around Clint's waist. His slick is already scenting the air when Phil pulls back the covers, and it's the most deliciously simple slide for Phil to press his hard cock into him, slotting inside like the space is tailored precisely to the dimensions of his cock. Clint sighs in his sleep and shifts back against Phil, starts moving his hips unconsciously and holding onto Phil's hand tight. 

 

They fuck outside of heats of course, but Clint's never ever as open and as pliant and as soft as he is when his heat first kicks in, before any cramps or discomfort, it’s so easy and perfect like this. Phil lazily fucks into him til Clint wakes up on a particularly ecstatic sigh, coming into Phil's hand that's gripped around him right before Phil pulls out just enough not to knot before his orgasm. Clint whines about it like he always does, his hand an iron grip on Phil's wrist so he can't roll away. Not that he'd want to, but when Clint's heat really hits he finds the smallest things the most devastating. If he thinks Phil's trying to leave - even if it's just to go grab food - he can get teary and angry, so Phil stays put til JARVIS politely makes a quiet chiming sound to alert that breakfast is ready. 

 

He kisses Clints temple before sliding away to jog to the kitchen and put everything on a tray. Slow-cooked scrambled eggs, crispy, perfect bacon, nice fresh toast and coffee, some freshly squeezed orange juice - Phil brings it all back to their room and sets it up to one side of the bed so Phil can fuck Clint while he eats if Clint decides he wants him to.

 

"Come here," Clint whines, making grabby hands at Phil til he comes within grasping-distance. Phil grins and slips back into bed behind him, taking the odd bite of toast over Clint's shoulder when he holds it out for him. So long as Phil's cock is nestled between Clint's ass cheeks, he'll usually eat, and it's the sweetest thing when he turns with a forkful of eggs for Phil to eat that too. "I'm meant to be taking care of you," Phil mutters through his mouthful of food, as though he'd deny Clint anything he'd ever ask of him. "Shut up," Clint replies, watching Phil take another forkful of breakfast. 

 

Phil's hard again in no time, thankful that Clint's still free of the cramps that can rack through him when he's not there. He's watched those horrible cramps before, on missions and before all of this, and he's so eternally grateful that he's able to do even the tiniest thing to help. 

 

Clint scents the air unconsciously and tips his head to show off his neck, waiting for Phil to claim. Phil absolutely has to accept such a delicious invitation, sucking deep marks into Clint's neck at the same time as slipping his cock back where it belongs. 

 

Breakfast gets pushed away in favour of Clint pulling Phil's hands where he wants them (on his hips) and moving them both so Phil's on top of him, sighing happily as his alpha fucks and fills him, angling his ass up and keeping his back arched down in a perfect submissive display. Phil pulls out and looks for a moment at how beautiful Clint looks like this, presenting for his mate, til Clint turns his head and scowls, rolling his eyes before reaching back to wrap a hand around Phil’s thigh and pull him back towards him. 

 

Phil folds himself over Clint and fucks into him hard, biting and claiming him in case some other alpha comes knocking. They won't; Phil's planned for that along with everything else. 

 

He comes again and this time, with Clint's hand still strong around the back of Phil's thigh, he knots. The base of his cock swells and ties them together, levering down slowly til Phil's weight is pressed atop Clint. Phil will manoeuvre them to their sides soon, but he knows Clint likes it this way, likes having the pressure of his alpha, his mate that he _chose_ , pressed on top of him, keeping him there safe. 

 

Phil kisses the back of Clint's neck, makes more marks that'll fade by the time they both go back to work.

 

He waits for Clint to push up a little before shifting them over, holding on tight to Clint from behind and kissing more as Clint jerks himself off. Phil pinches Clint's nipples, teasing and pulling at them til Clint comes with a choked out sigh, clenching around Phil’s knot as he does it and making the tie even tighter. Phil feels another pulse of his own cum spurt into Clint when he does it, and Clint shivers around him, giving Phil his hand to lick.  Phil doesn't eat much during Clint's heat beyond Clint's cum and the bits of food that Clint forces on him, he doesn't need it; he feels nourished enough just from fulfilling his omega's needs. 

 

"Good morning," Clint says eventually, reaching back to the tray of food for a bit of bacon. 

"Good morning," Phil agrees. 

 

A regular lazy day at home would usually have Phil tugging Clint out of bed eventually, the need to ‘get up and go’ drummed into him by his years in the army. But on heat leave he’ll do whatever Clint wants, and if Clint wants Phil to stay in bed til the afternoon then stay in bed he shall. 

 

Clint hops out at around 1pm to go to the bathroom and take a shower, calling Phil in shortly because he’s lonely. Phil curls around him and even through the heat and steam of the shower Clint’s scent cuts through and makes Phil hard, made only more so by the way Clint grins and bends to pick up the soap and grind his ass into him. It’s only Phil’s perseverance and foresight with the stack of towels that stops the bed from getting completely soaked on their return, laying the wrong way on the bed so Clint can ride him and watch TV at the same time. Phil watches Dog Cops upside down and eats the chips Clint feeds him while they’re tied together, rubbing his hands up and down Clint’s sides and over his belly to soothe the cramps that he can sense are getting close. 

 

Soon, Clint will lose his senses a little, start begging and writhing, desperation racking through him. Phil’s seen him like that plenty of times, especially when he was first weaning himself off of the suppressants, but now, years later, the Thrashing is one of Phil’s favourite parts of Clint’s heat; getting to mollify and subdue his mate, fill him carefully but with enough force to quell his panicked desires. The look of trust that blossoms over Clint’s face when they tie together with Phil’s weight pinning him in place has Phil ever thankful that fate sought to bring them together when it did.

 

For now, though, Clint chases a chip with a kiss and then slips off of Phil’s deflated knot. “I’m hungry,” he declares, laying down in their ruined sheets and waving an imperious hand. “Sandwiches?” Phil asks dutifully, ever the faithful servant as any good alpha should be. Clint nods and off Phil goes, returning to kiss Clint deeply when he complains through the doorway. 

 

Eventually he brings their lunch, breaking off bits of his own sandwich to feed Clint even as Clint wolfs down a half-dozen neat little triangles himself. “You want dessert?” Phil asks, placing the plate on the nightstand even as he’s pulling the sheets away again. Clint nods and grins filthily before saying that he’s pretty sure Phil has just what he fancies, bravado faltering when Phil slides in and holds on tight. 

 

This time it’s faster and harder, Phil spooned up behind Clint before he shifts over to press Clint into the bed, holding onto his arms as he starts flailing about a little. He starts begging for Phil’s knot even as he’s starting to swell, pressing his face into the bed as Phil plugs him up and floods him. The cramps that would be hurting Clint otherwise serve only to massage Phil’s cock inside him, working around his knot to eke out every drop he can. Clint whines and moans into the pillow beneath him, quieting when Phil rolls them onto their sides again to coo sweetly against Clint’s neck. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, anything he can think of that sounds reassuring and sweet, anything to make his mate happy.

 

They rut again before Phil properly goes soft again, always surprised by just how much Clint wants him, how much he needs him when he’s like this. Phil’s getting a little sore himself by this point and gingerly slips free of Clint while holding him tightly, tugging him in the direction of the bathroom for a cool bath. It calms the fever enough to get Clint coherent again, til he’s whining that he’s fine and they should get fucking again already. Phil still checks him over carefully, rubbing soothing cream in all Clint’s sore places even as he bitches about it being entirely unnecessary and how “they didn’t have fancy doctor cream back in the dark ages, Phil.” 

 

Their dinner should arrive soon, and Phil waylays Clint’s attempts for another rut til it arrives, putting it neatly in reach before Clint jumps him again, pinning him down and riding him triumphantly, fisting his own cock to come over Phil’s belly, sticky and warm, clamping around Phil and forcing his knot in and out a few times as if in spite of Phil’s careful earlier ministrations. Then they’re locked together again and Phil’s reliant on Clint to reach over for neat cubes of meat and cheese, a heat-order from their favourite taco place. Phil watches Clint eat most of it, ravenously regaining his spent energy with only the odd spare thought for his alpha. He doesn’t mind much though, it’s a blessing as welcome as any to see Clint this carefree and happy in his heat, content so long as his hole is filled and he has Phil right where he wants him.

 

“Love you,” Phil says out of nowhere, too charmed by a stray bit of lettuce on Clint’s cheek not to say _something_. Clint stops chewing and looks down on him, grinning through a mouthful of half-chewed food. “I love you too, babe,” he replies, like it’s nothing. It’s one of those things - what people say when they’re in rut - literally in this case - you don’t take it seriously, but Phil feels a warmth flow through Clint right through his cock. It’s like ripples through water the way it runs through Phil and back again, and Clint jumps around him when it passes back. They stare at each other as it passes back and forth a few more times, growing less and less til it’s just the soft pumping of blood in their veins and their soft breathing that quietly moves their bodies.

 

“Did you feel that?” Clint asks, swallowing his food and wiping his hands, pressing them softly against Phil’s chest. Phil nods wordlessly, cause he’s not sure about Clint but he never thought bonding was an actual thing that happened outside of fairytales. “Say it again,” Clint prompts, and Phil takes a deep breath before he says it. “I love you,” he says softly, and it happens again, warm and sweet and passing back and forth like electricity. 

“I love you,” Clint whispers, gasping at the feeling and fluttering around Phil, laughing and moving to kiss Phil and repeat himself, til their dinner lays forgotten.

 

That turns into another rut, though the golden ringing of what surely can’t be a ‘bond’ makes it something even deeper than it ever was before. Phil’s sure he’s never felt this close to another person, even Clint, and it’s true and perfect and wonderful. Eventually Clint stops moving, stops his soft mantra of ‘I love you, I love you’ because he’s laughing and sighing against Phil’s neck, skin smooth and warm under Phil’s hands. “Are you gonna be able to read my mind now?” He asks, “oh, bonded one?”

“I can already read your mind,” Phil replies. 

“Oh?” Clint says archly. “What am I thinking right now?”

Phil can’t, not really, though even as he slowly slips out of Clint again his sense of touch seems to extend just beyond himself, stretched between the two of them like invisible skin. 

“You want to watch Dog Cops again and each chips.” 

Clint laughs and grins, and Phil does feel that, the sweet melody of the sound ringing into his bones. But he always felt that way when Clint Barton laughed before, didn’t he?

 

“Lucky guess.” 

Phil nods and holds him tightly, because everything with Clint is some sort of weird luck or twist of fate. “I love you,” he murmurs against the smooth skin of Clint’s shoulder, but the warm rings of heat don’t radiate between them the way they did when they were joined.

Clint turns to face him and his expression sobers. “I…” He’s never been good with words, not the simple things that he means to say. And usually Phil helps him out, but he can sense, heat or no, Clint wants to say this himself. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I didn’t know I… I didn’t think saying it would make a difference.” 

Phil doesn’t know what to say, cause he’s no better with words when they really count, but he swallows and nods. They’ve both said the words before, but it’s been when their are lives on the line, dying speeches or drugged up confessions. And they do count in their own way, and Phil did know in some capacity that his feelings, his love, was reciprocated. But this is different, better. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says eventually, “I mean - it does, the… whatever that was. That makes a difference. But I know, I love you so much Clint Barton.” he presses one hand to Clint’s cheek and feels his skin move beneath it as he smiles. 

“Do you wanna watch Dog Cops?” Clint says, swallowing. Phil grins. 

“You read my mind,” he replies.

 

 

 

 


End file.
